


Dinner?

by urgaylol



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, Hanzo's emotions are taken about fifty percent seriously, Love Confession, M/M, either the dumbest thing I've written or the only good thing, i'll beta later, inappropriately comedic, kind of, milking the 'doped on painkiller' trope for all it's worth, only because if i took them completely serious this would be dark as hell, staring Hanzo the mess, the closest I've ever come to a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urgaylol/pseuds/urgaylol
Summary: Hanzo finds out that Valium doesn't mix well with pride.





	Dinner?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey what up fam squad it's urgaylol. I know I haven't posted in a while and that's because I'm working at two new works at the same time, both much longer than this. I wrote this one super quickly and just as a break to get away from more serious works. Anyway, I have no idea if this is good or not, which is probably not a good sign but that's never stopped me before so

Hanzo Shimada awoke in the hospital ward, full of tubes, smelling like gauze, and accompanied by Ana Amari of all people.

Considering the fact that the last thing he could remember was plunging into a burning building with the very simple task of stopping an explosion, Hanzo was not at all surprised to wake up in such a state. He was pleased to find himself alive, for once, mostly because his survival implied he was successful in his quest of avoiding the destruction of half of downtown Valencia. However, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that Ana was the only one present for his wakening moment. He knew he wasn't the most popular resident of Watchpoint by a long shot, but if this ever happened again, he hoped to see Hana, who seemed to have been warming up to him, even though she didn't say it, or Rienhardt with a heartfelt monologue. Or maybe  _his brother and best friend_.

Genji Shimada and Jesse McCree had been with him right before he dove in; Jesse begging him not to do it, Genji begging him harder not to do it. Hanzo hadn't even regarded their pleads. One of them had to go to shut the gas valve off.    

Suddenly, he was filled with the flimsy but real worry that something had happened to them. Maybe the explosion had gone off, and Hanzo had just somehow been the only one to survive.

"I'm pleased to say that everyone is fine and you're a hero." Ana said, removing the tubes from his nose.

"Where are they?" Hanzo asked. His voice felt raw and new in his throat, but he'd had much worse.

"You'll see them later. First, are you feeling well? Can you move everything?"

Hanzo sighed with irritation but wiggled his toes. The task was easy, and when he shifted his body in various ways, he found no pain.

"Sufficient enough." Hanzo declared. "Now, where are--"

"I have been elected to inform you that although your friends and colleagues are all dying to see you, there's a piece of information that you are inevitably going to learn, and those who know you well suspect you'll want to be alone while you hear of and process said information."

Ana's voice was serious and slow, like she was reading from a textbook. Hanzo was all for seriousness, but something about it coming out of Ana was unfamiliar, and just made the whole situation feel too...serious.

"What must I know?"

"Something that I doubt you're going to take particularly well."

Hanzo's mind jumped to every worst possible conclusion he could think of.

"What is it?" he asked. "If it is truly so nauseating, I wish to know quickly rather than fester in the muck of my own speculations."

Ana rubbed her temples. 

"When you entered Watchpoint, you were heavily drugged." she started. "Angela got you into a room as quickly as possible, and got everyone else out of that room as quickly as possible, but you had time to...speak your mind."

Hanzo instantly was forced to stifle a full body flush as he began to suspect where this was going.

"What did I say?" he hissed.

It was very subtle, but Ana winced. Hanzo could tell that she was very reluctant to be the one here right now. And considering the fact that Ana's pride and joy in life was making people deeply uncomfortable, Hanzo didn't like what that said about her hesitation.

"You had a lot of love to give." 

"General love? Love for humankind?"

"No, specific love."

"...For who?"

Ana messed with a tube on his hand that was resisting being yanked out, and Hanzo prayed. Prayed to god; to the Christian god, the Muslim god, to the Hindu gods, prayed to any god who would listen that Ana was about to give his brother's name. That it was Genji who Hanzo had announced his love to. Brotherly love.

Because besides Genji, the only other person in Gibraltar he loved was--

"McCree." Ana answered.

Hanzo had heard of people mentally willing themselves to die. He wondered if it was truly possible.

"Fraternal love?" asked Hanzo.

"No."

Hanzo grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He could tell Ana was looking away from his face.

"Who heard?"

Maybe no one important heard.

"Everyone heard. Except for commander Morrison. He was asleep."

So much for that.

"Did--did McCree hear?"

"Yes."

Hanzo burned with paralyzing horror. Love was not a concept Hanzo tossed around, and he knew Jesse knew that.

"What exactly did I say?"

"What didn't you say?" Ana mumbled.

Hanzo's heart sunk. Not exactly into sadness, but into a cocktail of shame-fueled panic. Despite this, he felt needed to know what he'd said.

"Tell me." he ordered.

Ana took two painkillers out of her pocket. She downed them with a shot of liqure from the flask at her hip.

"At your arrival, Hana and Genji rushed towards you. You informed both of them, in multiple languages, that you loved Jesse McCree and had for the last year. When Hana asked you what you meant by love, you said you wanted him like the ' _moon wants the sea'_. Upon McCree coming to your side, you proposed marriage. You continued to propose, every time you saw him, offering him a pebble you had in your pocket. You then went off on a racist monologue--"

"Against who?"

"The Irish. Halfway through, you remembered that McCree's father was an Irishman. However, this only seemed to strengthen your point."

"Oh."

"Finally, you stole my communicator, and announced to the entire team, on base and off, that McCree had the...best butt of any Overwatch official, or person you'd ever met."

Hanzo shifted over, and searched next to his bed for a life-support plug. He found a standard outlet with a single electric plug, but Ana stopped him before he could pull it out.

"Don't do that." Ana scolded.

Defeated, Hanzo rolled over onto his front side, taking several wires with him. He pressed his face into the cheap fabric of the pillow as he contemplated his fate.

The shameful thought of even looking his coworkers in the eyes ever again was backseat to the concept of seeing McCree. Jesse would probably try to talk it out and spin it like it was no big deal, like Hanzo had nothing to be ashamed of and that after a little time they could pick up where they left off, but that didn't change the fact that Jesse now knew the truth.

The painfully unrequited truth.

Maybe they could still do it. Still be friends. No, Hanzo just couldn't see a scenario that left him with any dignity. He kicked himself for making friends with anyone at Overwatch, let alone idiotic and tasteless Americans who were reckless and brash and uncultured and kind of...handsome. 

And clever. And kind. And deeply funny, not that Hanzo would ever externally laugh more than a tiny chuckle. Fascinating too, with a knack for story telling. And--

Hanzo stopped thinking about it. 

"If it's any consolation, no one thinks poorly of you." said Ana.

"Really." Hanzo mumbled into the pillow.

"Yes. In fact, they like you more. They find you more human."

Hanzo didn't reply. A few more tubes were pulled from his flesh.

"Returning to the subject of your actual injuries, please no strenuious psychical activities for a day or so. But you're free to go, whenever you're ready." Ana followed.

"I understand."

"And I--I feel obligated to inform you that strenuious psychical activities include--"

Ana cut herself off.

"Yes?" asked Hanzo.

"Forget it. There's food for you in the fridge. You might want to get some sleep. It's late, and there's a meeting tomorrow morning, although everyone will understand if you don't want to come."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to leave you now. But before I do, and I know it's not any of my business, but..."

Hanzo made a weak, questioning noise.

"I don't think McCree is going to react the way you seem to assume he will." Ana followed. "And I suggest you talk to him."

Ana left after that. After spending another hour face down against the pillow, Hanzo finally got out of his assigned cot and onto sore but workable feet, slipped on the clothes that someone had left him, and checked out with Angela. She didn't ask him anything that wasn't about how he was physically feeling, didn't even look at him too hard, but Hanzo could tell what she was thinking about.

Hanzo got back to his quarters and shaved his head.

 

~~~~

 

Well, he didn't shave his whole head, just the sides. He was up late that night, opting instead of sleep to buy a dark jacket and pants and to get several piercings; two in his ears, one across the bridge of his nose, and one in his left eyebrow. He might have also been wearing a little eyeliner. Not that anyone could see it, because of the sunglasses, a cheap pair of policeman-style aviators.

He got to the meeting room in a tired haze, five minutes early. He had no intention of missing the meeting, with as little professionalism he had left. As the other agents trickled in, Hanzo pretended like everyone was either staring at him or avoiding staring at him because he was wearing soft-punk boots and a quarter pound of metal in his head.

When Jesse came in, Hanzo closed his eyes under his glasses. Usually, when Jesse entered a room, Hanzo felt a sort of contentedness. Now, deep shame and a sense of loss and self-loathing overpowered the feeling, leaving Hanzo an internal mess. 

At eleven sharp, Morrison took his place at the head of the table. He gave Hanzo a little double take and eyed the piercings with an air of disapproval.

"Alright, team, listen up." Morrison huffed. "Our first order of business is to bring attention to Mr. Hanzo Shimada for singlehandedly--"

Ana and Angela both cleared their throats loudly. Jack looked back down at his clipboard.

"Wait, no," Morrison continued. "I've been specifically instructed not to bring attention to Shimada. When did we change this?"

Angela's head hit the table. Hanzo kept his gaze straight ahead and pretended not to notice that Jesse's cheekbones were flushed, or that Genji had just pulled his visor up. 

The meeting droned on, and Hanzo had absolutely no idea what was discussed, spending all of his energy desperately trying not to look at Jesse, who was sandwiched between Genji and Ana. Jesse didn't try to meet Hanzo's eyes either, but Hanzo could tell he wanted to.

The meeting was let out. Hanzo made a beeline for the door, having full intentions of reaching his quarters as quickly as possible. No one tried to stop him, although he heard some muttering when he walked passed the group that had surrounded Jesse, now with Hana and Lena. Perceptive as he was, Hanzo could tell they were edging Jesse to do something, and Hanzo started to walk faster down the halls, nearing on enraged.

Hanzo opened his front door and collapsed onto the floor of his quarters. He lay against the carpet for over an hour, instructing his speakers to play him nothing but music he hated. He downed a shot, and then another, and then another. It didn't get him drunk, but it helped him to finally pass out from self-willed exhaustion.

Someone knocked at his door, starling him from his nap. Jesse, he recognized the power and pattern. Hanzo didn't move.

They knocked again. Hanzo said nothing, hoping Jesse would just go away and never try to speak to him ever. Hanzo was planning on spending every minute that he wasn't on a mission or in a meeting in the safety of his room, with nothing but a bottle of cheap sake and loathsome music until he died. He hoped McCree could at least grant him that.

"Hanz, I know you're in there." Jesse called. "I'm comin' in."

"Shinitai." Hanzo muttered as the door opened. He didn't even bother to remove himself from his position, sunglasses astray and body curled around a bottle and shot glass, because he'd already been so exposed that it wasn't like he was going to manage to look any more pathetic.

"I'm sorry I didn't come 'round earlier." Jesse said as he turned the corner to the living room. "But I sure as hell wasn't gonna-- _Jesus Christ_."

Without looking at Jesse, Hanzo waved from his spot on the floor and poured himself another shot.

"Are you listening to Abba?" asked Jesse.

Hanzo grunted.

He felt feet against the carpet move until they stopped at the couch, and then the sound of leather shifting as Jesse sat down. There was also some crinkling, as if cellophane was being shifted, but Hanzo had no intention of so much as glancing in Jesse's general direction.

"First off, I wanna say I'm diggin' the hair cut." Jesse started.

"Do not waste my time." 

Jesse should have known better. Should have known that Hanzo would want to be left alone after such a deep, self-induced blow to his pride.

"Look, Hanzo, I...this is still kinda hard for me to say, foolish, all things considered."

"Speak your piece."

"Can I--look, can you at least get up off the floor?"

"No. Stop wasting words. I won't ask again."

Hanzo knew that he was being a cold-hearted, melodramatic brat, both with words and attitude, but it gave him something. Not quite dignity, but it would do for the time being.

"Alright, suit yourself. Goddamn. I'll cut to it. Would you like to go to dinner?"

Hanzo looked at his watch, confused. Dinner wasn't for several hours. And Hanzo rarely went to dinner with the other agents. Jesse knew that.

"I'm not hungry." Hanzo answered.

"Then let's go for a drink."

"I already did."

"Then get coffee with me."

Hanzo scoffed as loudly and rudely as he could manage.

"Will you just say it?" Hanzo ordered.

"Say what? That I--"

"Give your speech. The pity speech. You don't need it to be over a cup of coffee, we can have it right here, right now. Please, so that I can move on with my life."

"Pity speech?"

"Yes. First you will say you are flattered by my proposition but that you think it best to reject my advancements, then you will make a fuss out of the idea of us still being antiquated. You will then give me a melancholy smile and squeeze my arm, and follow it with some sort of trite, self-deprecating comment meant to defuse the tension but that will inevitably only make it clear just how uncomfortable you are. I beg you, if you feel even one final smattering of respect for me, spare me this. Leave me--"

"I want to take you out to dinner." Jesse interrupted.

Hanzo turned his head towards Jesse, absolutely furious. He opened his mouth, ready to call Jesse every dirty phrase he knew, but his words got caught in his throat when he saw what Jesse was wearing. 

Oxfords. And nice pants. And a button down shirt that wasn't a flannel. His hair looked tamer, and his beard had been trimmed. Under one arm, he held a bouquet of orchids, clearly selected from the Bastion's garden. His hat was nowhere to be seen, not even strapped to his back. Even so, Jesse reached up to tip it as Hanzo eyed him, before realizing that it wasn't there.

"Is there a reason you've combed your hair?" asked Hanzo.

"Yeah. I wanna take you out to dinner."

A suspicion came to Hanzo. He didn't let it spark anything in him, as it was too hopeful.

"...Why?" 

Jesse let out a quiet chuckle at a joke Hanzo couldn't see. Hanzo poured himself another shot.

"Well," Jesse replied, "I suppose, because I'm in love with you."

Hanzo accidentally tipped his shot glass into the carpet as he quickly sat up. His aviators hung awkwardly from his nose, and his face twisted in violent surprise. He was sure he'd misheard, but he was still deeply jolted, like he'd just dodged a life-threatening blow.

"...What?" he asked.

"I, uh, well." Jesse continued, looking down at his lap with a sort of bashful smile. "I still ain't certain that everything you said you wanted yesterday was...whatcha actually want, but, well, I got a hunch. And I want you, if you'd still have me."

Up until now, there had been three moments in his life when Hanzo's mouth had physically come undone with surprise. The first was when he was eleven years old and found out what his father did after hours with the other mob bosses. The second was in his late thirties, upon learning that Genji was still alive. The third was just a few months ago, at the end of an American movie Jesse himself had made Hanzo watch. Hanzo couldn't remember the title, but Jesse had called it a "Shyamalan and Willis classic", and it had been truly awe worthy.

So it was no small feat when his mouth fell open once more.

"I've wanted you for a while." Jesse continued. "I didn't say nothing cause of the standard reasons; I couldn't bear the thought a' losing you and I was too much of a coward to get the words out, but I reckon I should a' told you a long time ago."

Hanzo felt a sort of emotional whiplash as he was flooded with a charged, blooming euphoria. He desperately tried to bring some semblance of order into his consciousness, to no luck. 

"Oh?" Hanzo asked, voice threatening to break with...something.

Jesse snickered. Hanzo blinked.

"So." said Jesse. "Dinner?"

Hanzo seriously considered the possibility that he might have fallen into comatose in Valencia. He looked to Jesse and examined the vividness of his outline, trying to spot any signs that he was only a figment. Before five minutes ago, Hanzo hadn't ever considered that Jesse was also interested. Sure, Jesse had admitted his fair share that he found Hanzo attractive, but few hadn't.

"Somethin' on your mind, sweetheart?" Jesse asked. Hanzo was ever moreso than usual aware of the pet name.

"My deepest apologies." Hanzo said. "But can you please give me a recap?"

"Of what?"

"Of the last twenty-four hours."

Jesse paused for a moment, smile still undying.

"You risked yourself to save a city," Jesse started, "clichê but classic, by the way. You got injured, then you got high as a kite on pain meds, you told me some secrets, and I was pleased to hear 'em. Now I'm askin' if you'll please go to dinner."

Hanzo wondered if Jesse could hear his heart pounding.

"Are you coming on to me?" Hanzo asked.

Jesse snorted.

"I'm declarin' my love for you, so I guess so." 

Unable to stifle it, Hanzo burst into deep, mildly crazed laughter. Half of him couldn't believe what was happening, and the half that could believe couldn't believe that it was happening like this.

"What's the matter?" Jesse asked.

"I am having an arduous time--accepting this as my reality." Hanzo answered through his breath.

"Yeah, me too. Though I've had a full day to think about it."

"Irrationally, it is impossible. Rationally, it is a statistical unlikelihood."

"What? Two friends who like rubbin' elbows just a little too much, but neither of 'em wanna say it? Happens more than you'd think."

Hanzo shook his head and smiled a smile to match Jesse's.

"Come over here." Jesse said.

"No."

"Well, I guess I'll go over there."

Hanzo struggled to collect himself as Jesse got off the couch and sat down next to him. Jesse reached forwards and took off the crooked aviators.

"Oh, this is cute." Jesse said, tapping the metal on the side of Hanzo's nose with a crooked grin. It stung, given that the piecing was so fresh, but Hanzo didn't notice.

"Don't patronize me more than I already have myself."

"You wearin' eyeliner?"

"Perhaps." Hanzo answered, hoping it wasn't too smeared from the crying and eye rubbing he'd done earlier.

"It's, uh, it's spread a little."

"Has it."

Jesse reached for the sake. He soaked the corner of his bandanna in it, and then used the fabric to wipe Hanzo's face clean. Hanzo let his eyes slip closed with a little sigh. He was deeply sure that he'd later feel immense amounts of shame and regret for letting Jesse clean him off like a child, but for now, he felt content. And warm. And loved.

"Hanz?" Jesse asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Not very." Hanzo answered. It was half a lie. He was drunk, just not on alcohol.

"Then I think it's time to get off the floor."

Hanzo groaned loudly but let himself be brought to his feet. He flushed a little as Jesse chose to stand squarely in front of him, and avoiding eye contact became significantly harder. Two arms, one skin and one metal, came to rest under Hanzo's forearms. 

"You would like to go to dinner?" Hanzo asked once he could breath again.

"I'd like to do a lot of things."

"Such as?"

Jesse smiled.

"Well," he started, "dinner. Or lunch, or whatever. And then I'd like to watch a movie, whatever you want."

"That is what we always do." Hanzo snickered.

"Fine, then. I'll make love to you. Provided we're both put together enough."

Hanzo did not faint, but he did, for the first time in his life, develop an understanding of the trope.

"Make love?" he asked.

"Yeah. I hope it ain't too unrefined for your prudish sensibilities, but the whole basketcase get-up is kinda doin' it for me."

Heat spiked into Hanzo's abdomen. However, despite the stimulants of disbelief and euphoria, Hanzo was just starting to feel more like himself, which meant he was having less and less intentions of being externally swept off his feet. So he found the challenge in Jesse's comment. The insult.

"At the very least one of us is fashionable." Hanzo replied. "You're dressed like a failed missionary."

Jesse laughed the way he'd laughed at a hundred of Hanzo's other insults in the past. He let go of Hanzo's arms just long enough to grab the flowers he'd left at the couch.

"For you." Jesse said, holding them outright.

"What am I supposed to do with these?" Hanzo tried to complain, but his smile undercut his attempt.

"I'll get you a vase tomorrow. Now, will you please come to dinner with me?"

Hanzo made his face collected through the flutter in his stomach as Jesse took his hand and started to lead him towards the door. Suddenly, Hanzo didn't care if he bumped into anyone in the halls, or what they would think of him, looking like half a mess and at the side of the man who he'd just unconsensually professed his love to. 

"I don't want to go out." Hanzo said, like he always did.

"Come over then, and I'll make you something."

"I hate your cooking."

"We'll order."

"Can we order food to a military base?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

Before they could walk any further, Hanzo stopped Jesse at the door. He still wasn't absolutely certain this was all real, but this only helped to spur his courage when he got a hand around Jesse's waist and kissed him, quick and soft. 

"Dinner." Hanzo said, sharply as he registered the spark on his lips. "And a movie."

Jesse smiled like an absolute moron, and Hanzo's heart just melted.

"Wait, wait, before we go." Jesse said, grabbing Hanzo's shoulder before he made it into the hall. "I wanna beg you to please, don't be embarrassed about yesterday."

Hanzo shook his head. 

"You ask a lot from me." he replied.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, everybody thought it was...real cute."

"I do not understand why they would think that, or how that is suppose to make me--"

"Because they all already knew that I..."

Jesse trailed off. Hanzo suddenly realized something. That he wasn't really the one who was the center of attention yesterday. 

"I do gotta say, though." Jesse chuckled, reaching into his pocket. "I love you to death, but I don't think I'm quite ready to be your husband."

Jesse handed Hanzo a tiny pebble. Hanzo stared in confusion for a moment, before he remembered. 

"Go to hell." he shot back through his smile.

"Hey, don't tell me I don't get to quote all that stuff you said."

"I will kill you."

"You were poetic, darlin'. That stuff about my ass--"

"Kotoba ni ki wo tsukenasai."

"Hey, that don't sound nice."

To Hanzo's delight, "dinner and a movie" ended up meaning ordering Chinese take-out and getting through the first half of Old Boy before mutually deciding they would rather make out on the floor for three and a half hours.


End file.
